


Good Girl

by coveredbyroses



Series: The Porn Wars [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Praise Kink, Riding, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Set during 5x04. What if Dean’s sudden visit to the apocalyptic future was a little more…interesting?





	Good Girl

“Feels good, doesn’t she?” The grainy rumble of his voice hits you right between the legs, makes your cunt squeeze at the slick girth buried inside you.

“Ye-yeah,” an almost identical voice answers. It’s smoother, doesn’t quite reach the same depth, but the pitch is right. “So goddamned good…”

Dean’s still cuffed to the rung of the drop ladder, jeans tugged down around his thick thighs, naked hips boxed between your bare knees. He has to be uncomfortable, the way his right arm’s drawn up behind him in between the rungs - but his eyes are closed, plump lips slack and parted; blissed.

“That’s it,” Dean - the  _other_  Dean, says beside you. Your Dean, your leader; fierce and brave and razor-sharp at the edges. “Fuck him like you mean it, give him what he doesn’t even know he’s been missin’.”

Shit, it’s like his words have you by the shoulders, every syllable a weight that fucks you down even harder. The Dean below you has his free arm coiled around your middle, fingertips pressing so deep into your hip that you can feel the ache in the muscle. You’ve got one finger-splayed hand against his chest, his thundering heartbeat pulsing against your palm - while the other is shoved up under your thin t-shirt so you can palm at your own tits.

“I  _know_  you feel good, don’tcha?” your Dean says, callused fingers sweeping a patch of sweat-damp hair from your forehead. “All that fat cock shoved up in ya…I can hear how wet you are.”

“Please,” you hear yourself gasp before you can even realize it’s you.

“Please what?” he says, and you can hear the smirk in the steel of his voice. “Come? Not yet. You haven’t  _earned_  it.”

The hunter from your past chokes out a sound then, fingers pressing so deep into your flesh that you hiss at the bite of fingernails.

“You either,” your leader grunts at the man under you. “My cabin, my show.”

“Yes, Sir,” you whimper then, answering for the both of you. You pull back to brace your palms against the dirty wood on either side of the man’s bowed knees, using the leverage to  _really_  fuck yourself down, and your voice cracks with a cry as the tingling pleasure thickens and swells.

“There we go,” your Dean says, idly reaching up to palm at your still-covered tits. “Fuck him hard, fuck him like you  _know_  I like.”

“Fuck,” the prisoner grits, hips driving up to meet yours, “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ - oh _god-”_

“You wanna fill her up?” The older Dean rumbles. “Hmm?” His hand smooths down your belly to play with your swollen clit. “I know you do.” Underneath you, Dean’s cheeks darken, and you can feel his thickness twitching inside you with impressive restraint.

“Please, Sir,” you whine, voice tinny and chopping with every desperate thrust of your hips. “I want…I want him to-”

“To  _what_?”

“I want him to come…please.”

A thick pause passes, and then-

“Very well. Give her what she wants,  _twin_.”

Dean’s hips slam up into you one last time, and then he’s  _growling_  as he spurts hot and wet into you. The way he jerks and pulses nearly has you coming then, but you don’t - you know better than to disobey.

You can see his grin glowing beside you in the dim light. “What a  _good_ girl,” he says, the scratchy tip of his middle finger still swirling exquisitely over your clit. “Always such a good girl. Would you like to come now?”

“Fuck, yes - please!” Your voice is wrecked, body wound tight enough to snap-

“Come then,” the hunter-turned-soldier whispers, breath thick and hot at your ear.

You scream as you crash, hips grinding and bucking as you clench down on slick shaft still buried inside you. Dean’s jaw works underneath you, head tipped back against the ladder, chest heaving.

The present Dean pulls his hand away as you start to relax, then raises and backs away so you can limply slip off the younger Dean’s softening length. He’s still panting as you help him pull his jeans back up over his hips and quickly fasten his belt. You move to gather up your own pants when your leader holds a pointed finger at you. “Forget the clothes. I need you to, uh, keep him distracted while I’m out.”

 _“What?”_ you squeak out. “Dean, come on, I can’t just-”

“You can,” he says, eyes hard, “and you will.”

His face softens just a tick as he steps forward, heavy boot a loud thunk against the wooden floor. He cups your jaw in his big hand, thumb sweeping over the pillow of your bottom lip. “You will because you’re my good girl.”

“Yes, Sir,” you whisper with a sleepy smile. “I am.”


End file.
